The problems with Masonic papers are these:
● Static. A paper is an extremely dull presentation. Someone just stands there and reads. The audience is passive and not actively involved. They’re just listening.
● Length. While the topic itself may be interesting, listeners can easily zone out if the presentation goes too long. Even Shakespeare didn’t have half-hour soliloquies.
● Delivery. Not everyone is a singer; some people are monotones. Not everyone is an actor; watch the performances of ‘50s low-budget sci-fi films for proof. And not everyone is a narrator. They may not realise they sound like they’re reading, or that they blandly drone on. Even worse is when the person mispronounces words. It’s not easy getting a message across if it sounds like you know don’t what you’re talking about.
But that isn’t the problem some moan about. Instead, they gripe about the age of the paper. “Why aren’t there any new papers? Who wants to hear that old stuff?” they grumble.
Such an attitude seems somewhat odd, given these same members come to meetings and sit (or take part in) ceremonies that are at least 200 years old. Why, if the thoughts in the paper are well-formulated, or provocative, and relevant, does it matter when they were written? Let’s face it. Freemasonry has been around a long time and our forefathers must have contemplated on our Craft the same as we do today.
With that it mind, I stumbled across a paper I posted on a Masonic mailing list in 1998. It’s a portion of an address given in 1926 by the Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of British Columbia, Alex Manson. Alex was a country lawyer who became a Member of the Legislature and, later, Attorney General. He was well-respected and liked in his day, which is more than can be said about some politicians and/or lawyers today.
Not only are Alex’s thoughts worth reading again, his language is elegant but simple, which is certainly a lost art in this age.
Grand Master’s Address
There is a convincing proof that within Freemasonry, there is "something" that will not let us go. One asks what is that "something" and one recalls that historically Freemasonry is "an ancient and honourable institution." True, indeed, from an historical and a literary standpoint one may find that Freemasonry has contributed much in the affairs of men. But it is not for us to boast of the ancient and honourable character of our Institution unless we can say with truth that Freemasonry today as we live it and know it is honourable and worthy of the lineage of which it is sprung. It is for us to see to it that Freemasonry of our time is of consequence. One has no respect for the loose and idle son who boasts of his blood. We rather feel he should blush in shame for his unworthiness. By worthy life and worthy life alone can one justify a boast of his noble forbears. And so with us as Freemasons.
In thinking of our institution, we recall that it is a "beautiful system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols". How apt and delightful a definition and yet sometimes misinterpreted by the Brethren. There are those who say of Freemasonry that it is their creed, their religion, that the Lodge is their Church. There is nothing in Freemasonry which warrants any such statement. Freemasonry, beyond all questions, is religious. It cannot be otherwise - found as it upon the Volume of the Sacred Law. But it is not a creed nor is the Lodge a substitute for the Church. Freemasonry should not countenance the flying of false colours. It is indeed a beautiful system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols - and hidden away in the heart of its teachings and tenets there is something that draws the Brethren to it.
What is that something? Let us search for it.
The stranger is, to the Master, the gentle twig which he may bend, and as he bends the twig, the bough will grow in afteryears. The stranger, if he is the man he ought to be, kneels in awe and reverence, with heart laid bare, and it is to the Master to inscribe on his heart faithfully, quietly, indelibly those great moral principles which are the fabric of our teachings. The Brethren within the Lodge room, too, have their part. They can create the atmosphere for the Master to labour in. So much depends on atmosphere. There is not a single member who cannot add to the solemnity of the occasion. What is there in life greater than the opportunity to mould for the better the character of our fellow men.
The stranger having become one of us, let us again consider the Freemasonry which we live. Is it a Freemasonry of the Lodge room, something that we take off as a garment and leave with the Tyler when the Lodge is closed? Something for tonight and again of a night two weeks or a month from now? If so, then Freemasonry is a hypocrisy and a humbug, the grossest waste of time. If it is something just by the way of social contact, then why all the frills and frumpery? Social contact has its place in our Fraternity, but it is not the heart of the matter. It is only part of greater things.
If Freemasonry then is not of the Lodge room alone, what is its extent? What of outside the Lodge room; what is Freemasonry then? Tomorrow, I stand behind the counter in my shop — one comes in the door — I recognise him, I have sat in Lodge with him, he is a Brother in the Craft. I know that with him there must be square dealing. I shall not cheat, wrong or defraud a Brother. A second one comes in — I know him not — have never sat with him in Lodge. He is not of the Craft. How shall I deal with him? May I, with smirking countenance, rub my hands and say "I owe no special duty to this passing stranger. 'Caveat emptor', shall I say, and if I can make anan extra penny it is my privilege." Brethren, this ought not to be. There are not two codes of morality in Freemasonry. There is but one. Fair dealing and square conduct should be the code of Freemasons toward all mankind.
Brethren, Freemasonry is a wonderful thing — it has a great and rare opportunity. Let our Freemasonry not be of the Lodge room alone, but let it be of today and tomorrow, even to the setting of the sun.
